


Tradition

by h0ldthiscat



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, I hope?, fic prompts, fic requests, i guess, xf revival, xf revival spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4746905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0ldthiscat/pseuds/h0ldthiscat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had always been a happy participant in traditions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tradition

She had always been a happy participant in traditions: midnight mass before Christmas and Easter with her family, rubbing Testudo’s nose before a big exam, going to happy hour every other Friday with her academy class until they became too scattered across the globe to make it.

She had always thought that one day she’d pass her love of ritual to her own family. What movie would they watch while they strung lights on the Christmas tree? What book would her son or daughter want read to them every night before bed, even after they were “too old” to want it anymore? What song would her husband pull her close to slow dance too, time after time?

She still thinks about these things sometimes. Mostly she thinks about her rituals with Mulder, the way they would take turns on who would get up first to shower, the way he bought snacks and she gassed up the car whenever they drove somewhere together, unable to shake the old habit. She has her own rituals of course, her bedtime routine, her scrub-in process. She triple checks the bolt on her apartment door before she goes to bed every night, and tries not to remember all the times she’s found monsters under her bed.

But now he’s here. Her son. Their son, she corrects herself, tipping her head and placing her hands on her lower back, hoping to relieve some of the tension there. They’ve been at the precinct for four hours now and they still haven’t been allowed to see him.

Beside her, Mulder cracks a shell between his teeth. He has his own traditions too. She wonders if their son does, if he taps both of his heels into the AstroTurf before a lacrosse game, if he has a mantra he repeats to himself before a math test–-although if he’s anything like his father, she knows he won’t have that problem.

“I wonder what color his hair is,” Mulder says, and she hopes it’s dark like his. She knows his eyes are hers.


End file.
